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Raising the bar on the Cote d'Azur

It is hidden away from the bright lights of the seafront in a former hairdressing salon in the Avenue des Commandos d'Afrique. There is no line-dancing, drag queen or a trillionth singalong to Sunlight des tropiques or Début de soirée - Nuit de folie.

But the new bar with the unpromising location and the odd (if you are unfamiliar with Tintin) name, Rackham le Rouge, has quickly joined my list of businesses in Le Lavandou that deserve to succeed.

There it rubs shoulders with the newsagent's shop run by Marie-Noëlle and Patrick in the Intermarché supermarket; the cheerful, efficient crowd at the Hélios Plage beach restaurant; Henriette's lingerie boutique (because I see the hours she puts in, not because I wear her knickers); the Pavillon Thai (short mention because they already are exceedingly successful); the beautician and masseuse who tends to the needs of people you've heard of but has to work like a slave to make ends meet; the boulangerie in rue Pierres Précieuses (best baguettes in town), and few others I have overlooked.

Rackham le Rouge is an attempt to recreate a Parisian-style jazz dive, in miniature, in this pretty but slightly subdued Mediterranean resort. On my second visit, Marc Dutilloy's superb guitar duo, Histoire de Swing, occupied the raised alcove, now serving as stage, where I'd sipped beer the night before.

At the busiest point of my couple of hours there, we numbered just 12 in the basement bar and I include the musicians and the English bar manager Steve Grieves.

That grew to 13 when Steve's French girlfriend came down with a plate of amuse-gueules for two of the customers. Marc will have played his Django Reinhardt to bigger audiences. Yet not many more people would have made the small bar seem full (there is more space, but again limited, upstairs).

Can it work? Steve, who owns a bar in Chamonix and slips effortlessly between French and English, sees it more as a winter attraction and may well be right.

Le Lavandou becomes sleepy soon after the last of August holidaymakers have departed; the town could certainly do with some out-of-season musical distraction.

In fact it could do with more variety at high season, too. I have nothing against the jolly places where people know every word of the songs on a desperately short playlist of French, British and American standards, dance compilations and Eurotrash hits; I just don't want to hear Summer Nights, Mambo #5 and Rivers of Babylon every time I go out.

The town hall does make an effort. It was in Le Lavandou that I saw the excellent John Mayall band three years or so ago, and tomorrow night's free concert on the beach by Olivia Ruiz, who defies the convention that French pop should always be dire, promises to be fun.

But these are relatively rare events. You can hear reggae and rock at one or two joints near the marina, but the music starts at an hour that ensure most customers will be a quarter my age or younger.

So I have selfish interests in wanting Rackham le Rouge to prosper.

The bar also serves beer and wine at prices that don't drive customers towards mortgage brokers before they dare order a round, and a lot of care has gone into the cosy decor.

But no one should ever underestimate the problems of making a success of bars and restaurants in France. The mantra is set in stone, but has assumed a harsher edge in gloomy economic times: plenty of people have come on holiday but they are not spending much. And there is, in any case, no English-style culture of going out for a few drinks.

Look at the busy seafront bars and you see groups occupying tables all night but ordering only once or twice. In the restaurants, people make do with a pichet or half bottle of wine between two, and often enough do without coffee or desserts.

Even full, Rackham le Rouge would have its work cut out to cover overheads including whatever the musicians are paid. But a year from now, I hope to reporting that the word of mouth on which Steve believes a regular clientele will be built has made the project worthwhile.

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Raising the bar on the Cote d'Azur

It is hidden away from the bright lights of the seafront in a former hairdressing salon in the Avenue des Commandos d'Afrique. There is no line-dancing, drag queen or a trillionth singalong to Sunlight des tropiques or Début de soirée - Nuit de folie.